And She Said Love Is For Children
by Lex Avalon
Summary: "Love is for children I owe him a debt." A story about Nat and Clint. Ever wonder how they met? Ever wonder what they do when they're not avenging? This story explores their relationship. There's a bit of smut as well. You were warned. I hope you like this story.
1. Chapter 1

Natasha Romanoff, or more affectionately known as 'the' Black Widow, was what might you call 'sat' on a chair in the middle of a annoyingly bright lit room. Her hands were strapped onto the armrests, and she could feel the pinch of splinters of the old wood biting into the pale skin of her inner forearm. Her feet were strapped to the chair legs, although she could move them a little if she really tried. She wore a long and somewhat elegant navy dress that twisted around her ankles, which were just visible. The dress was embroidered with tiny crystals, that swirled around the fabric like miniature stars. A slit ran up to her left upper thigh, and it revealed several dark grey bruises that splotched against her pale skin. There was a thin and shallow cut just below her collarbone, and it bled into the low neckline of the dress and darkened it. Her lips were dry and white, and she licked them constantly. Her head was thrown forward, as if exhausted and her brilliant red curly hair was tossed around her face like a mane. It covered her eyes and was matted, so she couldn't see, Blood dripped steadily from her nose and landed on her stomach.

She sighed and turned her gaze upwards, into the light. She winced and its fierce glow and turned her head to the side slightly with a whimpering sigh. A fist came out of nowhere and smashed into the corner of her mouth. Natasha felt it burst, and warm blood began to slide from between her lips, and she coughed, feeling around for a damaged tooth.  
>"If you've chipped any of my teeth I am going to kill you." she stated calmly with an edge of sarcasm. She shifted in her chair. The was no answer, but a hand reached out a tilted her chin up and squeezed her cheeks playfully. The hand was soft, Nat noted and nimble. It pushed her head back in a rough gesture. A laugh filled the room, it was quiet and reasonably childish but had an air of malice and spite that was distinctly chilling. The hand reached up and brushed the hair out of her face, so she could see. She looked up.<p>

A woman was standing there. She was petite and skinny, but she stood with such open confidence that just radiated pride. Her face was round and curvy and her eyes were acid green. Her hair was white and it spiraled into a knot at the back of her head, where several strands were lose. The woman tapped her thin fingers against her thigh, imitating impatience. Her nails were long and perfectly manicured, which portrayed her arrogance. She opened her mouth to speak.  
>"You know" she said, stepping backwards and gazing at Natasha thoughtfully, "For the famous Black Widow; slayer and seductress of men, I have to admit that I thought you'd be a hell of a lot prettier."<br>Natasha smirked, enjoying the new form of capture that did not involve men drooling over her. It was a different kind of intriguing, but it wasn't only men that could fall prey to her wits.  
>"Well, considering I was expecting a sleazy and frankly too sweaty male criminal mastermind, I have to say that you've barely exceeded my expectations either"<br>The woman laughed, leaning in. "Oh I have heard about you petty insults, your little temper does get you into sticky situations."  
>"You've heard of me then?" she said, raising her eyebrow.<br>"Straight down to business? I am surprised. I thought you would carry on with your pathetic facade for a while longer."  
>"Facade?" she questioned, forcing her voice to sound bored.<br>"Do you know who I am?"  
>"Dont answer a question with a question, it deletes the significance of both of them"<br>The woman grinned and crouched down so her vivid green eyes were level with Natasha's brown ones. The woman leant forward so their noses were and inch apart. She could smell the sweet scent of her perfume on her skin.  
>"My name" the woman stood tall and proud, "Is Ivory. And I am the last face you shall ever see"<br>Natasha snorted and threw her head forwards "Now _tha_t was melodramatic. If you had any idea how many people have ever said that to me, you wouldn't even dare to look me in the eye ever again."  
>Ivory's face changed into a snarl and without any hint of a hesitation reached underneath her skirt and pulled out a pistol in a fluid motion. She held it to Black Widow's for head and her finger itched on the trigger. Natasha didn't react, and she blinked lazily<br>"If you had any idea what I've done-" Ivory began.  
>"Of course I know." she stated. "I know <em>exactly<em>, in every detail what you have done, Ivory. I know every secret of your 'secret' organization, I know every nook and cranny of every storage facility of were you hold the experiments. I know _everything. "_  
>Ivory's hand shook violently and her face became masked with fear.<br>"How the _hell _could you know that?!" hissed Ivory, spittle flying carelessly from her mouth. She had lost her composure completely. Her hand shot out and gripped Natasha by the throat. The pistol was pressed against the left side of her temple. Natasha smiled up at her impishly, seeming not to notice the fingers tightening on her throat.  
>"I swear to god if you don't tell me how you know, I will blow your brains out!" Ivory snarled. "Who do you work for? Why are you here?"<br>"Tut tut, Ivory, you're asking all of the wrong questions..."  
>Ivory slammed the butt of the gun into the side of Black Widow's head. She gasped as her vision blurred, but she still managed to smirk and rolls her eyes dizzily.<br>"Tell me!" screamed Ivory, fear clouding her vision.  
>"I'm just resourceful enough to pass through all of your high tech security. Scary, isn't it?"<br>"Oh, the deadly Black Widow, if you're so smart" purred Ivory, stroking the gun across her temple. And clenching her neck harder,"Why oh why did you come here alone?"  
>The Black Widow laughed, and tossed her hair back. She smiled coyly, and like a stereotypical spy, hissed out words that were full of victory and venom. She blinked slowly, studying her eyes. "Now who ever said I came here alone?"<p>

It took a few milliseconds for Ivory to process what she had said. Her eyes were confused. Natasha whipped her head and bit aggressively into the fingers holding the gun, tasting metallic blood between her teeth. Ivory yelled and thrashed, and her finger tightened on the trigger and fired a bullet. The bullet missed Nat by a millimetre, which frankly was extremely irritating to her, because it should not of even come close. Ivory went into a frenzy and vainly attempted to attack Nat. Her finger nails dug into her face, drawing a little blood. Nay twisted her head out of her grasp and shook her hair out of her eyes. A figure approached behind Ivory, ripped her off Nat, and tossed her to the floor like a ragdoll. She clambered up only to be knocked down again by a fierce uppercut to the chin, where she stayed motionless.

Hawkeye approached, walking solidly to where Black Widow was. He smiled awkwardly and the rips on her dress and the blood that caked her body. His eyes were wide and apologetic. He pulled out a black metal instrument from his belt pouch And he began work on the locks that kept Nat immobile. She glared at him.  
>"You're late." she said in a monotone.<br>Clint looked up, and winced over theatrically "Yeah..." he paused, "I got held up in the vents...turns out that they're not exactly designed to be crawled through."  
>"By two hours, if you want me to be precise." She muttered. Clint didn't look up and carried on with the scratching at the lock on her right arm. After a few well thought out turns and twists, it sprang free, and so did Natasha's arm. She punched Clint square across the jaw, not bothering with the courteousness of slapping that society deemed fit. He withdrew and rubbed the red indent that was left by her fist.<br>"Good punch" he said honestly.  
>"My pleasure" she replied beginning to smile. Clint leaned in and they kissed briefly, and slowly, ignoring the blood! They both grinned underneath each others lips. Clint pulled away.<br>"So where are the keys?" he said nodding to the lock. Nat smiled and gestured to the unconscious Ivory on the floor.  
>"In that bitch's trouser pocket." she said. "Left pocket" she added.<br>Clint fetched the keys and undid the locks on her left wrist and ankles. She stood, and stretched up and down, enjoying the feeling of it. She shook out her hair and rubbed her wrist gently. She stood tall and scratched some of the blood off her chest. She was well aware of Clint watching her.  
>"Errr, Nat?" he said apprehensively.<br>"Hmmm?" she murmured, leaning against the wall.  
>"Have you actually seen you dress..?"<br>"I'm sorry?"  
>"I mean, if you look at it, its not really much of a dress anymore, its more like two pieces of transparent crystal strewn fabric joined at the shoulder and the knees, where underneath, lies an incredibly see-through bra"<br>"Is it bothering you?" she breathed softly, stepping forwards where his arms where waiting. Her hands crept up to the back of his neck and stroked his hair. His arms wrapped around her waist, and she could feel the muscles beneath his skin.  
>"Not at all" he muttered, placing a kiss at her neck, "But I should inform you that the S.H.I.E.L.D team shall be here in around 45 minutes"<br>Nat smiled and put her hands on his chest. "Sorry to go a little off topic here, but did you take out all the guards?"  
>"Every one" he whispered, his hands tangling in her crimson hair.<br>"Good" she managed to get out before their lips collided. They kissed each other fiercely, both of their hands wandering. Their lips moved together, moulding around each other. Natasha felt a burning sensation travel from her working lips to the lips of her toes, and she stood up on her tiptoes so she could kiss him better. His hands grasped her waist, providing her support to lean against as she angled herself upwards. They way they kissed was hasty, with an air of chaotic hunger. They grappled for each other, pressing themselves as close as they could get, chest against chest. They could feel each others heartbeats. Natasha's hands wandered to his back, and she could feel the coiled tension beneath her trembling fingertips. She moved her fingers in circular rotations and pressed them hard against his back, savouring the heat and pulse beneath them. She felt like her whole existence was on fire; she was a torched beacon of lust.

Clint drew away quickly, with the air of attitude that one could apply to ripping off a plaster. He gasped for breath as he stepped back, and his cheekbones were flushed pink. His hands went to the thick leather of his arrow quiver, and he fumbled with it for a few seconds before wrenching it off. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter, and a couple of arrows tumbled out. With his foot, he pushed them to the other side of the room, where they hit a smooth wooden table and rolled to a stop. He slipped off his shoes and kicked them away. His hands then went to the neck of his T-shirt and he pulled it off in a fluid motion.

Natasha gazed at his exposed chest, regarding it with a startling look of approval. His abs were chiseled and well cut, and were rippled with a few small scars. A bigger scar sat on his left shoulder; a pale thing about the size of a coin, with red edges. It was a ragged circle, and marked the place where somebody had come close to killing him. It was raised a little against his skin and looked old. Natasha knew that scar well, after all, she was the one who caused it.

He bent forward and began to apply kisses to the inside of her neck. Her hands went to the tattered scraps of her one beautiful dress and began to try and remove it. The fingers traced against the silky fabric, searching for a handhold. She attempted to slip out of it smoothly, and leave it at the feet, but the rips and tears made it impossible. Natasha searched for another way to remove it with disturbing what Clint was doing. She ran her hands over herself nervously. Eventually, she gave up and snatched the intentional slit on her upper thigh and tore upwards, splitting it down the front of her chest. Tiny crystals spilled everywhere, and before anything else, Nat removed her bra and let it drop to her feet. Clint raised his head, gazing at the matted mess of bruises that was her body. Natasha felt a blush rise to her face, and she looked down at herself, taking note of all of the imperfections that littered her skin. She had feeling of embarrassment inside her gut, one that wanted her to turn away and hang her head, or pick up the discarded remains of her clothing off the floor and cover up this _mess. _She drew into herself, changing into the mask of cool stiffness that she wore everyday. It was her game face. It was the expression she used when she was terrified. _Itis childish_, she thought, _tofeeldiscomfortinmyownbody. I am familiar with all sortsofmen, perverts even, staringatmeandonlyseeingmybody, butyetthisIamcompletelydumfoundedby. _Her indignation evaporated when Clint cautiously lifted his hand and reached towards her. It was replaced by a sick sort of terror that pooled in the back of her throat like acid. She was accustomed to deal with all sorts of fear, from death threats to torture, which both she had faced, but she had never felt anything like this. Natasha's whole mind was filled with the yearning to be accepted by the one person she held dear. The only thing she could think about was that she want to be welcomed into his arms; to be reassured that she was indeed not just a body covered with bruises, but a human being.

The back of his finger trailed against her chest, and she sucked in a breath. She could feel her fight or flight reflexes starting to emerge, although this was hardly something she could run away from. A ridiculous urge to run filled her brain, and it took most of her strength to keep her feet flat on the floor. She stood there, like a gladiator waiting to be judged, and she let out a shaky breath.  
>"You're beautiful Natasha" Clint murmured, with an affection littering his voice. He appraised her curves and figure with admiring eyes.<br>That was all it took, she threw herself against him, drowning in the bliss of acceptance. He stumbled back, evidently surprised, and the base of his spine thudded against the wooden table. She kissed him swiftly on the mouth and reached down to undo his trousers. She glanced up to see his eyes widen slightly, and she smirked at him playfully. She slid the trousers off him and threw them away, and they landed with a muffled thump in the corner of the room. They lined up their bodies, and kissed each other deeply, taking deep gasps every few seconds. Clint's hands moved to Natasha's hips and she pressed her crotch against his. His thumbs hooked underneath her underwear, and he peered at her, as if waiting for approval. She smiled in response and he slipped them off her, his hands running down the quirks of her toned thighs. She did the same to him, yet a little bit more cautiously, but she liked the feeling of his powerful legs against her soft palms. She pushed him back gently, trying to subtlety persuade him to sit on the table. He complied and sat with his legs hanging of the edge, and his erection poking up towards the ceiling. Natasha rested her feet against the edge of the table and pulled herself up so she was next to him. He reached over and gently rubbed between her legs, and a consuming shiver ran down her spine. Natasha slid her thigh next to his and straddled him. She could feel his length pressing against her entrance and she could feel a pleasant warm spread between her thighs. Natasha looked down at him, for she was kneeling above him, and their eyes met and they both saw lust in each others eyes. Clint rubbed himself against her slowly, but even the minimum of contact drove them both insane. Natasha slid onto him, and she moaned softly, adjusting to his size. Natasha gradually began to move in a steady pace, her eyes narrowing in a joyful relish. Clint pushed himself fully into her and she let out a shaky moan. They moved together, enraptured with each other, and they stayed like that for a few more thrust until their lust took over.

A thin sheen of sweat lined both of their bare bodies, making the bright lights from the ceiling beam off their skin. Clint and Natasha picked up their pace and a consuming pleasure took over all of their senses. Natasha grabbed his shoulders, and bounced up and down upon him, as fast as she could go, letting out a long moan of rapture. She could feel a string in her stomach tightening, wanting to be released. Her breaths were short and shaky, and she was half aware of Clint panting beneath her He reached up and brushed her scarlet hair to her forehead and fixed his eyes on her face.. They were both reaching the point of climax, and they worked together, furiously pounding against each other.

His hand reached for her sex and rubbed her clit gently. She put her hands on his shoulders and used them for support to lift herself up and down. Her nails dug in as she moved faster, and her eyes slipped closed and she gasped wildly as he moved faster. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears, loud and insistent, and she's began to shudder. Her moans of pleasure filled his ears; a sound that forced him to hold on, and to not stop. She began to lose her rhythm, lost in a vortex of intense feeling and Clint lifted her up and down, keeping the same delicious pace. Soon, Natasha could feel the sensitive walls clenching inside her, bringing her to immense levels. Her whole body vibrated and her teeth gritted. Her control broke and she let out a long yet quiet cry of joy. She felt his release and heard his abrupt moan and she came; letting the dam burst inside of her. She yelled and shuddered beneath him; half aware of his hands rubbing and stroking her body. Her mouth open. in an expression of extraordinary surprise, here senses exploding in a white hot burst of sensation.

Clint fell back, sucking in deep breaths, and Natasha fell on top of him, her cleavage pressed onto his chest. Her ears whistled and her vision blurred as all of her other senses were dulled. Her hands curled into firm balls and she buried her face into his neck, feeling his pulse against her lips. His hands were stroking her back softly, and they were rough from almost always holding the string of a bow. She shifted her weight and looked at him, he beamed at her. She smirked gently, too tired to do anything more than lift her head. They lay there in borrowed peace for a few moments, listening to each others breaths and feeling one another's skin burn. Their limbs we're tangled together, and they lay there in their own personal bubble of satisfaction.

Eventually, when their hearts had stopped their frantic pounding, and when their breaths returned to normal, they dislocated themselves from each other. Natasha stood first, stretching up to the ceiling and leering out a strangled yawn. She stumbled a little on her feet, and Clint rose up fast enough to catch her before she fell. His hands rested on each side of her navel, and she grinned at him gratefully.  
>"Whoops" she muttered.<br>Clint began to pick up the clothing from around the room, he collected it hurriedly, and kept on glancing at his watch with an air of nerves. He handed Natasha's clothes to her, and glanced absentmindedly at the unconscious Ivory who was spread-eagle on the ground.  
>"You know," he said evenly, pulling on his boxers, "I completely forget about her"<br>"Me too" said Natasha, clipping on her bra. She pushed her hair out of face and caught his eye. A smile spread across both of their faces, and within seconds, they were both hysterical; leaning against each other in a struggled attempt to stand. Their laughter echoed around the dull room, filled the space with child like giggles.  
>"Wouldn't it of been funny if she woke up, and she saw <em>that.<em>" exclaimed Natasha, pulling on her underwear.  
>"Now that would of been something to behold" he remarked, pulling on his shirt and trousers.<br>"Could you imagine her _face?" _  
>They laughed again, grinning at each other like children. They placed a kiss on each others lips.<br>"What if she did wake up and saw us, well, you know, and _fainted?" _pondered Clint.  
>Nat grinned, "Well if she did, and if she ever mentions it to anybody, she'll find herself in a remarkably dangerous feud with two master assassins..." Clint opened his mouth to say something, probably something sarcastic, but was interrupted by a loud and demanding knock on the door.<br>"S.H.I.E.L.D!" a male voice yelled "Open up!"  
>Natasha and Clint looked to the door and then to each other. They regarded their sweaty faces and Nat's messy hair, but more importantly Natasha's lack of clothing. They turned their gazes to the shredded dress on the floor.<br>"Agent Barton? Agent Romanoff?" demanded the voice "You in there?"  
>Clint swore beneath his breath and Natasha's face went red. She went to the door and placed a light palm on the handle. She turned to him, her eyes wide.<br>"Well this is going to take some explaining." she huffed simply.


	2. Chapter 2

Please vote and comment! It means so much. I write these for the people who enjoy them, and it is always nice to see feedback! Please enjoy! c:

After a long and rather exciting explanation about her dress which included dogs, knives, and more fighting than perhaps necessary, Natasha and Clint were sent back to headquarters with a meagre "good job". The "good job" was a mission that was too troublesome for any ordinary agents, so Agent Romanoff and Barton naturally got allocated it. Their performance was pretty much perfect, and as per usual they didn't even have an extraction plan The thing about always succeeding in missions, was that people began to become accustomed to your success.

Natasha was wearing a plain white shirt that they had found in the guards' changing room. It was long and baggy and almost reached her knees. She had bunched the sleeves up around her wrists so she could use her hands, and her hands were wrapped around her own waist. Blood was still oozing from her wounds and it stained the shirt red. Not that she was bothered.

Scowling as a gush of wind threatened to bring the shirt it by her chest, Natasha made her way down one of the cold corridors barefoot. The cold floor made her feet tingle. If anyone else was walking along barefoot in a top secret organisation's facility, they probably would of been stopped for a scolding. But this was Natasha Romanoff; nobody dared. She rubbed the cut on her collarbone absentmindedly, wondering if it needed stitches. It wasn't deep enough to effect her skills, but not sewing up a cut could cause further damage to a harmless flesh wound. Clint was beside her, his hands in his pockets, and they walked perfectly in step. It was an old habit. His hair was tousled and his dark glasses were perched on his head. Clint glanced at her, "You okay?"

Natasha frowned, she had gotten worse wounds than the of she had now. She found the fact that Clint thought she was actually hurt insulting. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Of course. It's only a cut."

"I know. I meant it more in a...different sense." Clint looked uncomfortable. It took her a while for her to realise what he meant, but soon it clicked. She kept her face expressionless.

"Oh." she said, not slowing her pace. She raised an eyebrow, "Yes. I'm good." Natasha allowed a smile to slip out from her lips.

Clint grinned in happy relief, "Good."

They kept walking.

"You have lost blood though..."

"Huh?" she said, "Not really..?"

Clint smiled, "Maybe I should put my arm around you to make sure you dont fall over"

He went to do it but she darted out of the way, grabbing him as pushing him rather gently into the wall. He laughed. He took her arm and twisted her around so that her body was sandwiched between the wall and him. He ran a hand through her hair. Natasha gently made him let go, but allowed his arm to drape across her shoulders. She was surprised by how much she didn't mind it.

They approached the elevator and went up to the top floor. There was a ding and the doors slid open smoothly, the cool of the air conditioned hallway washing over them. They walked towards the door and Natasha removed herself from Clint as he twisted the handle. He didn't seem to mind. They walked in and saw Nick Fury looking at them with that mask of seriousness he always wore. Now it was time to be professional.

A few hours and several stitches later, Natasha and Clint were on a private plane on the way to England. Natasha was in jeans and an AC/DC t-shirt that was slightly faded. Clint was also in jeans but with a plain black T-shirt. There was an extravagant party that was to be hosted by some not so famous billionaire that had several secrets on S.H.I.E.L.D that he was planning on selling. His name was Hansard Wilmot and he inherited his wealth from his fathers company rather than earning it himself. He had them on his extremely private and protected computer, and it was their first objective to find and collect the information he had found. Their second objective was to find out how this man had managed to get these secrets in the first place.

"Have I ever said how much I like flying in a private jet?" said Clint, grinning across the table at her.

Natasha rolled her eyes, "Yes you have."

"I mean flying in itself is amazing, but flying with your own personal couch and meal is just the icing on the cake, you know?"

"I know."

"Though flying all together is just so cool."

She looked at him. "Don't dork out on me, Agent Barton."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Agent Romanoff." he replied, gazing out of the window.

"You wanna go over the plan?" she asked.

"Sure, you walk into the party in that black dress that makes me want to rip it off you-"

"Careful, Barton." she said sternly. "We're on business."

"I apologize." he said, "Please tell me when we are off business."

She smirked. "I'll be sure let you know. Continue?"

"You walk into the party and flirt with that billionaire guy nobody really knows. You seduce your way to his room where his private computer is, and then kick his ass and get out."

"Your role in this?"

"I am your eyes in the sky. I stay on the rooftop, keeping guards out of your way and unlocking doors. I'll have a communication device so I can speak with you and guide you through the doors that I can lock and unlock. If all else fails it is my job to get you in and out, preferably without alerting the authorities."

"You got it." said Natasha, and she pulled out a book from a small rucksack. Usually she didn't mind long plane journeys because they cleared her mind, but today she was unusually bored. She tied her hair back and began to read.

Ten minutes into her book, Clint began to tap his fingers against the table, which was very irritating. She put the book down and looked at him.

"What's up?" she asked, sighing.

"I'm bored." he replied, "Fancy watching a movie?"

Natasha glanced at the huge plasma on the wall, she hesitated. "I'm reading." she said.

"What are you reading?" he asked.

"Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix" she said, holding it up.

"Which one's that?"

"The fifth one."

"It's huge! You could knock someone out with that."

She smiled, "Why do you think I chose it?"

Clint laughed, "Of course."

"Nah, I'm just kidding." said Natasha after a pause. "I'm reading it because it's an awesome series."

He rolled his eyes, "Watch a movie with me?"

"Which one?"

"I dont know, but we can have a look." said Clint. He stood and turned on the TV. He sat back down with the remote and began flicking through movies. They discussed the pros and con's of each one. They had got to The Lion King.

"I've never seen this one." said Clint,

Natasha turned to him, and gave him an incredulous look. "How could you of not seen it?" she said, "It's got to be one of the most famous Disney movies ever."

He shrugged, "I dont know, I've watched most of the other Disney films but have never seen this one."

"How? It's great. We're watching it." she ordered. She pressed play and The Circle Of Life came on and Clint glanced at her.

"Um." he said.

"Prepare for an education." Natasha said.

The closing credits of The Lion King appeared.

"What did you think?" asked Natasha

"It's good, but not my favourite Disney movie." said Clint

"Oh really?" she said, smiling, "What is?"

"Hmm, probably Robin Hood or Brave."

She rolled her eyes, "Why did I even bother to ask?"

"How about you?"

"Obviously, Mulan."

"Of course it is. It's not fantastic but I can see why you like it."

Natasha glared at him. "It is fantastic!" she said, "It has a strong female lead that isn't obsessed with finding a man to marry, it has amazing songs, and it has a dragon in it."

Clint held up his hands and laughed. "Alright, you got me."

Natasha yawned and stretched, glancing out of the window. It was late for her, but obviously fairly early for England. Usually she tried to adjust to the place she was going by staying awake or sleeping for certain times, but because they were only going there for a few days she didn't see the point. They had around five hours until touchdown. On this plane, they had separate "bedrooms". They were tiny rooms that were basically a closet with a bed as it's floor. Usually Natasha didn't sleep in them because she never saw the point, but she was unusually tired.

She stood up and Clint glanced at her, "Where you off to?"

"Bed." she said, stifling a yawn.

"Ah okay." said Clint.

"Are you going to sleep?"

"Nah. I think I'll watch a movie."

"Okay."

There was a pause.

"Well, see you later." said Natasha, turning around and walking to her room.

"Night, Nat." said Clint.

A few minutes later, Natasha was in bed and fast asleep.

Natasha walked to the party swiftly, her walk full of purpose. She was wearing a black dress that was not too tight and fell to just above her knee. It was fairly low cut but didn't show off too much. A necklace with red gems on it was resting against her collar bones. Her hair had been curled more than usual so that it fell in tight ringlets around her neck. Her shoes were red stilettos which clicked methodically against the damp pavement. Concealed under her dress was a small gun in a holster, and her stiletto heel concealed a knife.

Natasha put her hand to her ear, "Agent Barton," she said quietly, "Testing."

"Loud and clear, Nat." he replied. The signal was clear and he sounded as if he were beside her.

She glanced around at the rooftops, "Are you nearby?"

"You can't see me?" he said, amusement in his voice.

She casually looked at the rooftops, scanning the dark for silhouettes. She smiled when she caught sight of him. "Yeah I see you."

Clint tutted and Natasha smirked, "What gave it away?" he questioned,

"The reflection on your goggles."

"Damn." he muttered, darting out of view.

"I wouldn't worry, I've been trained to spot things out of the ordinary."

"Yeah..." he said.

Natasha was quiet. They had approached a populated area so talking out loud was not the best thing to do. Expensive clubs, casinos, and hotels lined the street.

"Hey, Tasha-" began Clint but Natasha cut him off.

"No." she said.

"Sorry..." he murmured, "Nat, then. Fancy going to one of these shiny hotels after this is over?" he said with a smile in his voice.

She put her hand up to her ear as if on the phone. Nobody even glanced her way. People were now all around her, she thought before answering. "I refuse to answer stupid questions, David." she said with a scowl on her face.

"Oh, oops." said Clint, realising she wasn't alone.

"No," she said, taking each word into consideration. "Dont worry about it."

She saw a sign for venue, and she decided to get off the "phone". First impressions were everything when it came to missions like this, and getting it right was crucial. "Seriously it's okay, Dave." she said laughing into the phone, "Anyway..," she turned a corner and she walked down the street. "...I'll speak to you later, thanks for calling me about that interview, you really are a lifesaver. See you, bye."

She return her hand by her side as there were no more people around within close distance. A few men still hung outside of fancy bars, smoking. As she walking past one called out "Alright, sugar? Wanna join us?"

She shot them a look so fierce that one of the men actually took a step back. She carried on past them and Clint spoke into her ear;

"Jesus, Nat. Remind me not to piss you off."

She smirked.

She approached the venue and she plastered a smile onto her face. A line of people were queuing outside and waiters and waitresses handed out drinks as they stood there trying not to shiver. She joined the line.

3 minutes and 23 seconds after she had stepped in line, a group of people, all around thirty and too good looking, joined behind her. She smiled at them and they all smiled back. A handsome waiter offered her a glass and she took it, taking a sip but keeping the rest by her chest. The wind went down the back of her dress and she shivered.

"What accent are you having tonight, Agent Romanoff?" asked Clint.

Natasha considered and then turned to the waiter that had handed her the glass. "Do you know when zey will be letting us in?"

"Ah, French." said Clint, "That's one of your best."

"It won't take a moment." said the waiter, smiling. She smiled back. He inclined his head, and then walked away with a blush on his cheeks.

Soon after, they opened the doors, and people went gliding in. Inside, it was extravagant. The ceiling was a dome and painted to look like the night sky A huge chandelier threw sparkles on the walls. A live band played soft music while people laughed and began to dance almost instantly. Natasha followed the stream of people and waited while everybody went into expensive party mode. She drifted around the room, keeping her eyes on her objective. Hansard Wilmot was taller than what he looked like in his picture, but thin. He was wearing a black suit and his bronze hair was slicked back. He wasn't attractive.

"You see him?" asked Clint.

Natasha gently nodded her head, ware that Clint could see her with the top of the range goggles which could see through walls. Natasha decided to go up to her target later, when the buzz that came with the start of the party faded. Right now, he was surrounded by people who all laughed too hard at any comment that he made. Everything person in this room was fake, and all of them wanted something. They either wanted money, alcohol, or a party, and then had come to the right place.

Still clutching the drink in her hand, Natasha took another sip, her eyes continuously darting to Hansard. She caught a man in his late twenties staring at her intently, and she acted flattered by smiling and lowering her eyes. His face was impassive. She raised an eyebrow at him and turned away, the cogs in her mind spinning. The man was muscled and was in a suit. He stood with his back straight, his feet a shoulder width apart, and one hand folded over the other. The answer came easily; he was a bodyguard. Natasha changed the look on her face while she watched Hansard from interest to admiration. She smiled as if she was trying to hide it and she lowered her head as if she didn't want to get caught looking. She poured lust into her eyes and when she turned around the bodyguard was staring at someone else.

"Nice." said Clint.

She waited for half an hour by the bar, relaxing on one of the couches. The couch was made of fabric and showed off Hansard Wilmot's wealth. It showed that if someone were to spill a drink, then he would have the money to buy an identical couch without even batting an eyelid.

"Heads up, Natasha, this may be your chance." said Clint.

She stood, in no real hurry and smoothed her dress. She walked swiftly around the dancefloor keeping her eyes peeled.

"One o'clock" said Clint.

She altered her course and saw him. He had extracted himself from the gaggle of people and was looking flustered as he made his way to a door. Realising that the door had a keypad, Natasha hurried her pace to as fast as she dared. She tapped his arm just before he went through and put on a smile.

"Meester Wilmot, sorry to disturb you, zir."

He turned around, startled, and looked at Natasha. His eyes travelled up and down her body, hesitating to move on at her chest. He smiled warmly.

"No problem at all, my dear. Can I help you?"

My dear? Natasha hid her disgust. She put on her face of mild embarrassment, "I dont know, Monsieur- I mean Meester Wilmot. I was just watching you from over there, and you didn't look well...are you alright?"

"I am perfectly fine, just a little flustered from the party 'tis all. What might your name be?"

"Cosette."

"Lovely name. f Now tell me," he said, warming up to her, "Where does that marvellous accent come from?"

"France, in Paris."

"Ah, it is a beautiful place for a beautiful lady."

Clint made a noise of disgust in Natasha's ear.

"Your english is very good I must say, do you live here?"

"No Meester Wilmot-"

"Call me Hansard, please."

"Hansard." she corrected. Everything was going to plan. "I do not, I live in France. My een-glish is only this good because my passion is languages."

"Oh really? What other languages do you speak?"

She smiled, "German and..."

"And?" he prompted.

"Latin."

"Wow, you are incredibly talented."

"Merci, Hansard. Do you speak much French at all?"

"None I'm afraid. I only speak English and a bit of German."

"I zee." she looked up at him with admiration. "Though you have many other qualities that I have heard of that compensate for that."

"Oh really?"

"Yes." her eyes twinkling. "Some I believed, some I did not."

"Which ones do you believe?"

She leaned in and looked deeply into his eyes. "That your rich..." she stepped forward slightly, "...'Andsome..." she placed a hand on his chest. He didn't object. "...And charming."

The last word was whispered in his ear, and when she drew back he was looking at her with something clouding his eyes. Agent Romanoff allowed herself a brief moment to smile truly. She had him. He was officially under her spell.

"He looks like he's going to pass out." laughed Clint in her ear. She fought off the instinct to laugh along with him. Hansard swallowed at looked at her, examining from head to toe. He was used to women throwing themselves at him for money, and Natasha doubted that any women had ever spoke to him for free. Her intentions were obviously not pure, but she was proud that she didn't have to buy her way into his bedroom.

Silently, Hansard Wilmot took her arm and pulled her hurriedly through the door. She allowed him to drag her but was a little annoyed on the inside. She smiled at him. He took her hand and pulled her into the lift. Natasha allowed him to push her against the wall. She breathed heavily. He went to kiss her but she stopped him with her hand. He frowned. She gestured with her hand at the camera and mouthed "wait". Hansard nodded at lent against the wall. Clint had gone very quiet.

The doors opened and he dragged her to his room. She let out a giggle as the door shut behind them.

Natasha slowly traced her hand up her thigh, letting her nails drag a bit across her soft skin. She lifted the bottom of her dress up very slowly, and Hansard Wilmot's breath hitched in his throat.

"Oh...Cosette..." he whimpered.

Clint was snorting at the other end of the transmission device.

Her hand contained her trace upwards, and his eyes burned into her exposed skin. She kept the pace slow, making it more and more tense. Hansard couldn't seem to take it anymore and he grabbed her harshly and ripped her dress in his haste to get it off.

"No." she commanded as his hand went to stroke her ass.

He didn't stop.

Furious, Natasha pulled out her gun from her thigh holster and pointed it perfectly at his head. He froze in shock, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish's.

"If you ever touch me or any other woman without her permission again, I will personally cut off your hands. You got that?"

He looked confused at her sudden change of accent, but then realisation shone in his eyes. He nodded frantically, "Pleas-"

Natasha swung the gun and caught his jaw at exactly the right angle. He toppled to the ground, unconscious.

"That is one of the reasons I like you." said Clint.

Natasha moved to the computer and began to hack his password. "You like the fact I swore to cut off his hands?" she said, frowning.

Clint said nothing to her, but she could hear his muffled muttering.

She personally deleted all of the S.H.I.E.L.D data that Hansard had, and then took out a memory stick. On it contained a nasty virus that would destroy everything stored on the computer. Thinking fast, she grabbed a post it from a stack on his desk and wrote in shimmering black fountain pen:

Sorry, my dear. It would of never worked out between us.

She smiled.

"Coming out now." she said to Clint, closing the computer down. She resisted the urge to kick Hansard Wilmot on her way out.

"See you soon." he said.

There was a brief pause. Natasha shut the door behind her.

"Hey, Clint..."

"Yeah, Nat?"

"That offer you made before...about the hotel. I'll think I'll take you up on it."

For a minute, he was speechless, but then he said "I'll be seeing you soon."

Walking to the hotel room was a different kind of tense, both of them anticipating what was going to happen. Natasha could feel sensations running up and down her body, along with the desire to be touched. She tried to keep her face impassive because that was who she was; The great Black Widow who was ruthless, fearless, and unfazable. She didn't show emotion, she was strong and independent and she didn't need anybody. Or at least that was what she wanted to think.

In reality she was three people; Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, and Natalia Romanova. Black Widow was ruthless, manipulative, and cunning. Natasha Romanoff was brave, secretive, and a bit of a dork. Natalia Romanov's was scared, mysterious, and dead.

She didn't want to think about it. Now was not the time for mental debates. She wanted this. She wanted every moment that happened from this moment on, and for a second she forgot who she was meant to be and she became his Natasha. Nothing else.

Natasha smiled at him and watched as he swallowed and smiled back. They stayed silent, allowing the tension to build between them until they could bare it not longer. Clint swiped the key card for the room and the door opened with a click. He held the door open door her and she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She strided through the doorway into the room and heard Clint close the door behind him softly. Natasha took in the surroundings with practiced ease. Double bed, two wardrobes, one bathroom, and a dresser. Blood red curtains framed the huge window that overlooked London city, and the lights from the building made shapes dance on the walls. The sheets on the bed were the deepest black silk and red cushions were piked by the headboard.

Moving swiftly, she went to the window and shut the curtains. The lights disappeared from the walls and they both were shrouded with darkness. Natasha waited for her eyes to adjust before moving silently behind Clint, who was blinking rapidly to try and speed up the adjustment of his eyes. Living half of your childhood underground had its perks, thought Nat.

She reached out quickly and spun him around by his shoulder. She grabbed his tie and used it to pull him towards her. Clint stumbled but regained his footing. She pulled him into a deep kiss, and pleasant sensation travelled from their touching mouths to her hips. Clint pressed himself against her, and despite the layers of clothing she could feel him there. She smiled against his mouth and went up on her toes, wrapping an arm around his neck. She could feel Clint smiling back. He placed a hand in her red hair, holding it softly, and his other hand travelled down to her hips. Natasha pushed against him, as close as she could get, and Clint gasped. His hand hovered by her tailbone, as if hesitant to continue without her permission. Natasha pushed herself against his hand and he got the message. He grabbed her ass and she let her hand wander to the back of Clint's neck. She kissed him desperately, thoroughly enjoying every second of this. She felt his hand move and creep slowly down to the bottom of her dress, and he lifted it up.

"Did you wear that dress on purpose?" he asked softly.

His hands were cold on her bare skin hut Natasha didn't mind. They sent delicious shivers to certain places and it felt amazing. Her skirt rested on her hips and Clint began to rub between her legs.

Natasha gasped softly and her hands clenched as he explored her down there. He pushed away her underwear and slid a finger inside of her, and she felt herself momentarily clench up in pleasure. He began to move and Natasha clutched Clint. Thinking it was only fair, she slowly moved her hand to his crotch. She undid the zipper and his length came free. For a few seconds he stopped her, and put on a condom. Timidly, she began to rub him, hoping that whatever she was doing was okay. Clint groaned as she wrapped her hand around him, and that made Natasha smile. They were both breathing heavily. Clint put another finger inside of her and Natasha whimpered as the the feeling spread. Perhaps it was selfish to think so, but she needed more.

Just as she was about to push him roughly against the bed, Clint took her by surprise and took her hips, lifting her up. Instinctively, Natasha wrapped her legs around him so she would not fall. Clint paused until she seemed comfortable, and then he lowered her onto his length.

Natasha let out a quiet moan as Clint entered her, and she felt him stumble and catch himself on the wall. She could feel every bit of him. This was so much better than last time, he was reaching the deepest parts of her and it felt unbelievable. She placed her hands on his shoulders and assisted him in lifting her up and placing her down. She moaned again, not on purpose but louder this time. The feeling was exquisite, reaching down into the parts of her that she didn't know could feel anything.

"Oh my god..." gasped Clint.

Natasha kissed him, unable to resist. They began to move, building up that pressure. She gripped his shoulder and she could feel that wave of sensation rising, getting ready to take over. He moved faster and faster until she could barely breathe. She was moaning with each thrust and and her eyes closed. She held on until she heard Clint moan out her name and in the end, that was what burst that wall inside of her. Natasha exploded around him, losing all control of her body and only half aware that she was screaming out Clint's name. They dropped to the floor and lay there, an entanglement of limbs.

Clint gently picked her up and placed her on the bed, and Natasha opened her eyes and watched in confusion and Clint removed the rest of his clothes. She didn't think he had orgasmed, and for that she felt bad. Following Clint's lead, she removed her dress and tossed it away. She closed her eyes and lay back, still consumed by that orgasm. She slowed her breathing, trying to recover so that she could return the favour to Clint. Then she felt the breath of warm air on her thighs,

Natasha gasped and Clint began to lick her. She knees shot up to chest height and her toes curled. Her back arched against the mattress and she cried out as his tongue explored her. Her breathing was erratic, and she could barely think. This was something else entirely, and she loved it. She opened her eyes and she felt him deepen the kiss between her thighs. Looking down at Clint with his head between her legs almost sent her spinning off the edge again. He moved his tongue faster until she could only grit her teeth and close her eyes and he devoured her. Her calves wrapped around his neck and she reached down, holding him on her. She thought she felt a smile and she moaned loudly, so close. She wanted to hold on though, it seemed unfair that she got two orgasms and he got one.

As if sensing her hesitation, he put to fingers inside of her and began to pump them mercilessly. His tongue moved to her clit and he pressed on it. She was frozen now, using all if her mental power to focus on not succumbing to the feeling. Half of her wanted to hold on, but the other half wanted to feel that pleasure once again.

"C-Clint" she managed, "I can't hold on."

He didn't stop his fingers but he removed his mouth from her and smiled at her.

"You dont have to," he said, his fingers still working, "Come for me Natasha."

He returned his mouth to her clit and his tongue and fingers moved in sync, that pressure building. It became unbearable until Natasha let go for the second time. She screamed out Clint's name once again as she orgasmed, and her body thrashed as her mind was consumed by the feeling. She sucked air into her lungs and her body trembled.

Clint moved up and kissed her, and Natasha gently kissed him back. He went to lie down beside her, as if to sleep, but Natasha blocked him and looked him dead in the eye.

"I refuse to sleep until you've had your fair share." she said, mischief dancing in her eyes.

He blinked and for a second his eyes clouded with lust. He shock off that feeling and was about to protest. Natasha moved and went on her hands and knees, cutting of his words. She tilted her ass up and twisted her head around to look at him. He swallowed.

"Natasha..." he murmured, and placed himself behind her.

"It's okay." she said, and it was true. She trusted him. She turned back around and waited, but she knew she had him.

Natasha felt him slide into her, and he gasped. He started slowly at first, but then he suddenly sped up and went as fast as he could. Natasha, who had not yet full recovered, felt herself teeter on the edge unbelievably fast. She moaned and that spurned him on, slamming into her roughly. She didn't mind. This was her choice and she wanted it and it was amazing. She cried out his name and she felt Clint shudder and thrust into her one more time as deep as he could, and they both collapsed as they orgasmed.

They clambered up the bed and slipped into the covers. Natasha curled into Clint and he wrapped his arms around her. They both steadied their breathing. Clint pulled her close and rested his lips on her neck. He leant over and kissed her cheek.

"I love you, Natasha." he whispered, running a hand through her hair.

She didn't even hesitate when she replied; "I love you too, Clint."


	3. Chapter 3

They woke up in the morning after a luxurious and very satisfying sleep. Natasha awoke to find that Clint's arms were around her. She was curled into a ball and her back was pressing against his chest. She smiled as she heard his loud snoring. Moving very carefully, she began to extract herself. She was ashamed to admit that she was used to sneaking out of the clutches of people she had spent the night with. But Clint was different. Clint had always been different.

When they'd first met, Natasha had wanted to kill him. She'd noticed that he was following her and her training told her to take him out. Kill him before he got the chance to kill her. That was what she was supposed to do and that was what she had always done.

But he had leapt from the rooftops, his fall broken by a wire. He looked like he was angry but his eyes were kind. She had labeled the kindness in his eyes as a weakness. She could use it as a manipulation. She made her eyes go wide and made fear cover her face. She backed against a wall. She was stupidly corned. How the hell did she let herself be corned? She added more fear to her face an gasped. She wanted him to think that she was a scared little girl, barely into adulthood. Then she would kill him.

She sprinted forwards towards him and he went for something on his back. Before he could get it, she grabbed his fingers and wrenched them backwards. He couldn't repress his cry of pain. He kicked at her and his leather booted foot smashed into her side. The air rushed out of her and she backed away gasping. He came for her again and attempted to hit her jaw so she would black out. She pulled her head back instinctively but managed to block it with her forearm. She swung her fist, aiming for his ear to disorientate him, but he was fast and he moved at the last second. It hit just to the side of his right eye socket. He stumbled back and Natasha leaped on him, grabbing his shoulders and swinging herself around onto his back. She wrapped her arm around his neck and gritted her teeth as he tried to prise himself lose. She dug her heels into his sides and her grunted. He began to thrash to try and throw her off but she hung on. He seemed to regain his senses and stopped trying to pull her arm off his throat. Instead, he ran backwards, crushing her between his back and the wall. Pain laced up her spine and blurred her vision but she told herself that she just had to hold on for a tiny bit longer and then he'd be unconscious. He ran back again and another wave of pain shot up her back. She gasped and her grip involuntarily loosened. The man used that chance to wrench her arm off him and he threw her over his head into the opposite wall. She managed the cover her head with her arms before she hit it, which was lucky. The impact sent a searing pain up her spine. She dragged herself up off the floor and stood, ready to attack him again.

He raised something that made her freeze. A weapon. A bow. A freaking bow. Despite herself, she had laughed at it. She really laughed. For the first time in forever she had genuinely laughed. It came as a shock to her. She stumbled back against the wall, still grinning. Why was she grinning? She didn't grin. She smirked or she smiled flirtatiously. Then he loosed an arrow and it missed her head by a hair's breath. That had stopped her grinning all right.

"Okay. I get the point. I won't laugh at your toys anymore." she said to the archer, studying him intently. He was tall...ish, or at least taller than her. He was well muscled and had sandy hair. More arrows were in a quiver on his back. Several knives were at his waist. Leather jacket, it was likely purple but she couldn't tell properly in the dark. Judging by the look of his torso, he was likely wearing a bullet proof vest underneath his jacket. So he was well equipped. That wasn't too good for her. She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms, faking calm.

"Natalia." he said, and her face dropped slightly. She swallowed. How the hell did he know her old name? That was a piece of her old life, of her past, and he had no right to even say it. Anger rose up inside her and her hand twitched for the gun in the holster on her thigh. He pulled an arrow from his back and fixed it on the bow. He pulled back and his face tightened. He didn't want to do it.

Natasha stayed still, looking at the sharp edge of the arrow that could bury itself between her eyes. Judging by the way he had fired before, this archer rarely missed. She wouldn't have a chance to think anything before she was dead. All he had to do was release, and then she would be gone and he could mark her off his to do list. If he wanted to kill her, there was nothing she could do. She was fast, but she wasn't that fast. She knew it. And from the look on his face he knew it too.

Fear leaked into her belly and made her hands go cold. She had wanted to die so many times, but not like this. Not killed by a stranger in some dark alley dressed in some stupid clothes. She wanted to die being herself; in her own clothes, using her own name, and with her own face instead of this façade she was wearing. She had thought that when her death came about, it would mean something. It would be good, and maybe with her death she would redeem herself. Her death would be on her own terms. She didn't want to be murdered.

"Natalia-" said the archer.  
>"Natasha." she said defiantly, forcing her voice not to break. "My name is Natasha."<br>The archer seemed stunned. "...Natasha..." he regained his composure. "Natasha, I've been sent to kill you."

She looked at him, just looked. She tilted her head. She examined his face. Beneath the hard mask was something else that she wasn't familiar with. Something deflated inside of her. She looked at him, confused.

"Then do it." she said. It wasn't a trick. She understood. It was a job, an order, and she had done it hundreds of times. He had her corned. He had beaten her. That was her fault, not his.

The archer said nothing. She could no longer see the emotions on his face. His arm didn't move. She straightened up a little and watched as his arm twitched. She didn't even blink. She was beaten. It was over.

She was confused. She didn't know why she wasn't fighting him right now. If she was going to go down, then she should go down kicking and struggling. She didn't know how long they stood there staring at each other. Neither of them moved. She barely blinked. Her eyes didn't move from that arrow tip. She wondered if she would see it before it killed her. Would she see it momentarily before it pierced her brain? Would she register it? The bow didn't seem funny anymore. She waited. Just waited. She wasn't thinking of a way out. There was no way out. She was dead. She didn't want to think about it but this archer wouldn't let it be over. She wanted to cry out and ask him to just get it over with, but she didn't really want her last words to be begging. She waited.

And then unbelievably, miraculously, the archer lowered his bow.

Impossible. That was her first thought. He was insane. He had a job to do. Why wasn't he doing it? He stowed the bow away onto his back. He turned away. If she had wanted to, she could of pulled out her gun and shot him before he could even knock on arrow, but she didn't. Why didn't she? It was the practical thing to do. One shot clean to the head and then she would run. Like she always had. But she still didn't. She just watched him. The archer walked a few paces away from her and avoided looking at her. She could tell he was thinking hard. Conflict swirled in his eyes. What was this man thinking? She wanted to run but something held her in place. Relief wanted to rush through her body but she wouldn't allow it until she was certain.

He turned to face her, his face unreadable. He looked at her up and down. His eyes lingered on the gun on her thigh but she didn't go for it. She watched him carefully, not letting confusion affect her common sense. He reached up to his ear and pulled out the earpiece in it. It dangled from a wire and she could hear insistent voices coming from it. She swallowed.

Before she could even cry out, the archer strode forwards and grabbed Natasha roughly by the arm. Sheer shock was the only thing that prevented her from attacking him, She was stunned in disbelief. He began to drag her down to alleyway, his eyes scanning the shadows. His jaw was set and there was something like worry in his eyes. She didn't fight him because she was so surprised. She could of snapped him in two, but she didn't. Was he doing what she thought he was?  
>"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded shakily.<br>He didn't even look at her, but continued pulling her along. "Making a different call." he had said.

And that was how they met. It wasn't perfect but it was certainly different and amusing. It now made her smile. Natasha wondered if she would ever repay the debt she owed to him. Hopefully she would one day. She slid flawlessly out of his arms and clambered naked out of the bed. Her bare feet hit the floor and she noticed that it was soft. She stretched widely and yawned, padding over to the discarded clothes on the floor. She looked for something to wear. There was her dress, but there was no way in hell she was putting something that tight on this early in the morning. She picked up Clint's shirt and put it on, along with her underwear.

Clint began to snore loudly. His snorts startling her. She smiled as she looked at him sleeping soundly on the bed. He looked peaceful and younger when he was asleep. His hair was messy and his mouth was hanging open. He grumbled in his sleep and rolled over.

She walked over to the "kitchen" and rolled up her sleeves as she went. They now rested on her upper arms. She flicked her hair out of her face as she knelt down by the fridge. It was a fancy hotel, so it probably had all sorts stowed away in there. She rummaged through and discovered she was right. She pulled out the things that were (probably) acceptable for breakfast and placed the on the counter. She began to make what she hoped was an okay breakfast, and soon she was humming to herself and getting lost in the arrangement of the plates.

She felt arms snake around her and she jumped, but then relaxed when she felt the familiar muscle. "Morning." she said, smiling and leaning into him. He was wearing his boxers.

"Morning..." said Clint. His breath blew on her neck and sent lovely shivers down her spine. She twisted her neck around and smiled at him.  
>"Wow, nice bed head." she teased. It was sticking up in several directions.<br>"You should see yours." he said, running a strand through his fingers. "You should keep it like that all of the time, it suits you. Keep it nice and messy."  
>"I'm not sure there's such a thing as 'nice and messy'"<br>"Well, if there's not, it still looks great all tangled."  
>She rolled her eyes. "I'm not even sure if that makes sense."<br>"Natasha." he said seriously, turning her around and holding her gently by the forearm. "I am trying to compliment your bed head. Please thank me."  
>She attempted to keep a straight face but then gave up and laughed. "Thank you." she said, kissing him once on the lips. She felt his smile beneath her lips.<br>"You're very welcome. Now, what's this?" he said, gesturing to the plates of food, "Breakfast? Made by Natasha Romanoff? Made by the Black Widow?"  
>She pushed him playfully, "Shut up."<br>"Is...that honey on a cereal bar?"  
>"Shut up."<br>"Did you put..." he dipped a finger into it, "Yogurt on toast?" he said incredulously.  
>"Is yogurt not meant to go on toast? We've had that before!" she argued, frowning and folding her arms.<br>"Well...yes but we were sort of starving and we needed something to take the bad taste of the mouldy bread we had away."  
>"...That bread was mouldy?"<br>"Erm..." said Clint, smiling lopsidedly at her, "Well..."  
>"I don't remember you telling me at the time."<br>"It must of...slipped my mind?"  
>She scowled and pouted, putting on a show of being irritated. She wasn't really, it was just a thing they did. She turned away, but Clint spun her around and held her to his chest. Natasha went to say something but Clint took her chin in his palm and kissed her. He pulled away far too soon. Clint smiled and took her hands.<br>"Next time, I'll make breakfast, okay?" he said.  
>Natasha sighed, and gave him a smile. "Okay." she said.<p>

_The archer who saved her life kept on looking at her strangely, like she was some alien thing that he'd never seen before. Sometimes he looked angry. Other times he looked worried, concerned, anxious, or guilty. It varied. It was hard to read him. Usually she knew what men were thinking all of the time because they had no subtlety. As He could play them so easily, and she could with __women __too, if she tried. Most men had no clue how to hide emotions, but sometimes you got some that were deceptive and cunning like she was. She had learned to appreciate those men. Male assassins or spies usually relied on brute force and chance to reach their goal, but this archer was different. He was strategic, clever, kind, and skilled. That was a bad combination._

_They were on a plane, and it was fancy. There were couches and TVs, which was strange to Natasha. She was used to either being on an overcrowded civilian flight or on a plane that didn't technically exist. She wasn't used to this luxury. It was just her and the archer sitting across a table from each other, but sometimes people emerged from the cockpit and sent glares her way. She didn't blame them._

_She had been handcuffed and blindfolded on the way here, not that it really mattered. The archer had asked, actually asked, if it was okay for him to blindfold her. She had laughed, but grudgingly said yes._

_She had no idea where she was going and she didn't dare ask. The archer had something in his eyes that looked like worry, and she didn't want him to regret the choice he had made anymore than he already did. But she had to say something. The silence was killing her._

_She thought for a moment whilst looking at the furrow in his brow but then said "Do you regret it?"_  
><em>The archer didn't look at her but frowned. "Do I regret what?" he said gruffly.<em>  
><em>She hesitated. "Saving me." she said.<em>  
><em>He looked at her and paused, considering his answer. Confusion flickered across his face and she saw what could of been a miniscule smile on his lips. "No." he said.<em>

_She heard the archer arguing loudly on the phone, and he didn't sound happy. He had walked out about five minutes ago when he had got a call, leaving Natasha sat on the couch. She listened carefully, trying to pick up details of the conversation he was having. She got the gist pretty quickly._  
><em>"I know you did!" he said angrily, "But I told you, she can be useful."<em>  
><em>There was a pause.<em>  
><em>He sighed, "I know, and if it was a mistake, then I'll take full responsibility."<em>  
><em>Pause.<em>  
><em>"Just give her a chance!" he yelled and she heard a noise that sounded like he had just hit a wall. "People have said similar things about me. People have said worse things about me. She can be an asset."<em>  
><em>Pause. <em>  
><em>"Maybe I am, but you've got to give her a chance. I know she's had a...tricky past but that doesn't mean she can't be redeemed."<em>  
><em>A long pause.<em>  
><em>"Okay, fine. Fine." he said, sounding resigned. "I'll talk to her. Thank you, Director. Bye."<em>  
><em>He reappeared and Natasha looked at her hands, her ears burning. This man, this archer, had just stuck his neck out for her. But why? Did he have...different motives? She didn't really want to think about it if he did, she was beginning to like him.<em>

_"Natasha." said the archer, sitting down opposite to her. "Dont pretend you didn't hear that."_  
><em>"Don't you really think I would?" she said calmly.<em>  
><em>"I really think you could be useful, you know."<em>  
><em>"I know. I heard." she didn't bother asking what for. Part of her was curious about his intentions. <em>  
><em>There was a brief silence.<em>  
><em>"Were you being honest?" she asked skeptically.<em>  
><em>"About what?"<em>  
><em>Quietly, she said "Do you really think I can be redeemed?" <em>  
><em>"Yes." he said firmly with a short nod of his head. She tried to hide her surprise. Could she finally do some good?<em>  
><em>"I..." she paused and exhaled, trying to put on the mask that made her a different person. The archer made her different and she wasn't sure if she liked it. There was something about him that was disarming, and she wanted to be in control of him and her fate. "Do you have any idea what I've done?"<em>  
><em>"I do." he said simply. And it's no less that what I've done. You were under orders. Like I have been."<em>  
><em>She wanted to say something, but she couldn't find the words. She turned away from him and stared out the window into the infinite darkness.<em>  
><em>*<em>  
><em>The training with S.H.I.E.L.D wasn't anywhere near as tough as what Natasha had done in the past. It was all basic and it varied from simple kicks and punches, to full blown takedowns. She kicked the punching bag, letting all of her frustration come out in thuds. The archer held the punching bag still and I'd he felt any strain from it he didn't show it. She finished off with several punches and then straightened up. The archer walked around the punching bag and surveyed her. Her eyes instinctively narrowed and she folded her arms.<em>  
><em>"Yes, archer?" she said, looking at him.<em>  
><em>"Your technique is terrible." he muttered, frowning.<em>  
><em>She scowled at him and brushed her hair out of her eyes, "It works, believe me."<em>  
><em>"That's not the point." he said as if he was reciting someone else's words. "If you dont use the right technique then you have a higher chance of getting beaten."<em>  
><em>"But if everyone uses the same technique then the person you're fighting will know what will come next."<em>  
><em>He was silent. She could tell that he agreed, but he wasn't really supposed to say. She suppressed a small smile.<em>  
><em>"Trainee!" barked the Instructor who was supposed to be teaching them, "You think you know best?"<em>  
><em>Natasha rolled her eyes. She hated people who acted like they had power but really didn't. "Evidently." she said, smiling sweetly. She thought she heard what could of been a laugh or a cough coming from the archer's direction.<em>  
><em>"Oh you do, do you?" he said, trying to loom over her. Its didnt work. She was taller than him.<em>  
><em>"Yes." she announced like it was obvious..<em>  
><em>The Instructor looked at her with disgust, "Spar with Agent Ford, Trainee."<em>  
><em>She looked at Agent Ford, who seemed to be more muscle than intelligence. "With pleasure." she said, smiling. She stepped onto the training mats. Ford looked at her hesitatingly. She waited for him to swallow his pride.<em>  
><em>"But...sir..." He said helplessly, gesturing to her. She cocked her hip and raised an eyebrow. <em>  
><em>"Scared?" She said, smirking. <em>  
><em>Ford's jaw set and he stepped onto the mats. He still looked apprehensive though. He was twice the size of her. "I have...hesitations about fighting someone this...well...a woman."<em>  
><em>Natasha's eyes flashed and she smiled. She was going to go easy on him but that comment just changed her mind. She flexed her hands and her sides and licked her lips. Finally, a chance to let off some steam. The archer was looking at her with amusement. <em>  
><em>"Get on with it!" demanded the Instructor. Ford nodded and stepped forward. She went to meet him, a confident smile on her face. <em>  
><em>"You're big aren't you? And tall. Does that make up for the lack of brains?" She watched as his face reddened. She had said a pretty pathetic insult but it had given her the result she was looking for; his eyes were clouded and he looked uncomfortable. <em>  
><em>Ford scowled and started forwards.<em>

_Before he could even register her movement, Natasha swung her body a wide arch up into the air and wrapped her thighs tightly around his neck. His hands instinctively grabbed her legs bit he couldn't shake her off. She used her momentum to swing herself around, dragging Ford with her as he choked and gasped. Using gravity to her advantage, she twisted her legs down and pulled him down to the ground. His head hit the floor with a viscous crack and he didn't get up._

_She got up and smoothed down her hair, smiling openly at the instructor. The other people around her gawped and so did the archer and the Instructor. That was usually the reaction she got from people when she did head scissors. She usually did it when the person she was fighting with had significantly bigger arm muscles. Her legs were stronger than her thighs and nobody expected it. She prowled up to the Instructor and she she passed she lightly slapped his cheek twice. "Not bad for a woman, eh?" she said._  
>*<p>

Natasha waited patiently for Clint to finish showering. She could of sworn that he took longer than she did. He also liked to sing in the shower. He did it quite quietly, thinking the sound of the water would muffle the sound of his melody, but it didn't. Natasha had never told him and she was never going to because it was highly amusing. She sat there with a smile.

She heard a click which told her than Clint was coming out, and she stood up. His hair lay flat against his scalp and a white hotel towel was wrapped around his waist. Water droplets trickled down his chest and were absorbed by the towel. He smiled at her as he came out. Steam floated out from the bathroom and disappeared into the air.  
>"Hey." said Clint, running a hand through his hair, "You next?"<br>"Yeah." she said, walking towards the bathroom. She was just about to close the door behind her when the phone rang. Groaning as she recognised the ringtone that S.H.I.E.L.D used, she began to go and get it.  
>"Leave it." said Clint, waving her to the bathroom, "I got it."<br>"Thanks." she said gratefully, turning back around. She close the door behind her and heard Clint murmuring on the phone quietly. Natasha undressed quickly and climbed into the shower. She sighed as the wonderfully warm water trickled down her skin. For a few minutes she just stood there underneath the flow, letting her mind wander and she relax. The tension drained out of her and she rolled her shoulders and felt goosebumps appear on the neck. Her hair, now reasonably straight, reached her chest and the warm water made it go dark red. She closed her eyes and her mind drifted back...

_Rain. Goddamn rain. She hated Scotland. It was constantly raining. The sky was usually white from all of the rainclouds bundled up there and even when it was clear and blue it was still cold. She pulled her hood up and wrapped her arms around her as a swift gust of wind sent her damp hair into her face. She gritted her teeth and shivers went down her spine. She had a gun conealed in the waistband of her black skinny jeans. The small metal wristband, coutesy of S.H.I.E.L.D (she now knew what the organisation was called), was cold against her skin and it's weight was a constand reminder that she was under surveillance. A tracker was in it and it prevented her from using any electronical equipment that wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D's. It was very irritating. They had given her a phone so that she could talk openly to them through her earpiece without arousing suspicion if anybody was around. But that phone was useless to her. It wouldn't even turn on because of the wristband and if she tried she got an automated voice in her earpiece that reminded her that she was being watched. She had tried to explain to them that she could of probably hacked the phone of the person who she was following, but they refused. They had even taken her widows bites and she missed them. They still didn't trust her, but The Director that she had never met was insisting that they gave her a chance._

_He had changed his mind about her when he saw her put in a scenario for the first time. Until then they had doubted her abilities beause the Archer had managed to get hold of her so easily. When they put her in there, she had gotten the quickest time in a decade. At the time, she was tired, irritated, and generally pissed off, and she allowed that to show in her actions. One guy was still in the hospital and the rest of the "difficult recruits" werenow more scared of her. They annoyed her so she didn't mind. She got a call from The Director as a well done. In his words she "kicked ass" and that was that. She had his full support._

_It didn't feel like full support though. Natasha was still kept on a tight leash, which she found annoying but understandable. She wasn't told anything that was going on in S.H.I.E.L.D or out, and that was very frustrating. She liked knowing what was going on because she had a thing for being in control and being prepared for all possible didn't care about the organisation at all and had no plans (in the immediate future at least) to spill their secrets. They were very keen on keeping her contact with the outside world at a bare minuim, and she was usually told off for asking about global affairs. She was good at keeping track of the date however, and she knew that it had almost been six months since she was taken in by S.H.I.E.L.D. It didn't feel that long. Everybody still looked at her like she was vermin and talked to her like she was a child. She was far from welcome. Christmas had passed just a few weeks ago, and when she said a sarcastic "Merry Christmas" to one of the "superior" agents, she was given twenty laps of the facility as a punishment. _

_The Archer was always around her in some way or another. She didn't know if it was out of guilt or if it was because he had been assigned to her, but either way he was always there. He stood and watched her as she flattened the other recruits when sparring. He lurked in the shadows when she was interrogated overandoveraboutwhoshewasandwhatshehaddone. He sat a few seats from her when they were in the dining hall. No matter what, he was just there._

_Like right now for instance. He was the one who was in her ear, talking to her. Well, she wouldn't exactly call it talking, it was mostly directions that she didn't need. The man that she was following was talking rapidly into his phone and was oblivious to the world. She kept her head down and her eyes up, her gaze wandering around in feigned interest. They were in the conuntryside and there seemed to be several people heading in the same direction as this man. They all looked different and nobody seemed to aknowledge eachother, but of course if they did know each other they weren't going to show it. She put her hands in ther pockets._

_"Just keep on following him." said The Archer in her ear. She took the useless phone out of her pocket and faked a call._  
><em>"Hi, Archer." she said sweetly, smiling into her phone. "Of course I will." she muttered with a bit of a bite in her voice. She heard him sigh.<em>  
><em>"You know you're not meant to do that unless it's necessary." he saidtensely.<em>  
><em>"And you know that I don't like being pushed around." she said. She tried to keep her words casual, like she was talking to a friend. What she wanted to say was "You know that I dislike having orders." but she didn't want to test his patience. <em>  
><em>"You should be paying attention." he said, his voice steely.<em>  
><em>"I am. He hasn't even glanced my way the entire time. Either he hasn't noticed me, or he is a better actor than I am, which would be an incredible feat indeed."<em>  
><em>"There's a guy behind you." he said, afraid that she would be heard.<em>  
><em>She rolled her eyes and didn't look back. "He has his earphones in and they're at maximum volume. The song he is listening to is 'Eye Of The Tiger'. He's wearing a red coat with dark blue jeans with black converse. His hair is black and he has brown eyes. He has a freckle on his chin. Am I paying enough attention?"<em>  
><em>The archer was silent for a moment before saying "How did you know that?"<em>  
><em>"I looked and him and remembered it. Old habit. How did you know that?"<em>  
><em>"What do you mean?"<em>  
><em>"You didn't question if that information was even correct. So unless you have a camera on me right now..."<em>  
><em>She turned her head around to the man behind her and winked. He scowled and began muttering into his earpiece.<em>  
><em>"You sent someone to follow me while I was following someone else? That's very impressive." she said with amusement.<em>  
><em>The Archer was silent for a long time, but then he sighed. "You are very annoying." he said.<em>  
><em>She laughed into her phone. "I didn't know I had such an affect on you." she teased.<em>  
><em>He said nothing.<em>

_The man came to a bus stop that was situated on the side of the road. Quite a few people were there, and she instinctively counted. "Just arriving at the bus stop. Looks busy but I should get on and be home soon. Only about thirteen people." she said casually. _  
><em>"Just wait with them." The Archer said.<em>  
><em>"That's the plan." she said curtly and returned her phone to her pocket.<em>  
><em>"Natasha..." cautioned The Archer as she sat down on the bench next to the man she was following. "You won't be able to talk to me now, you know that?"<em>  
><em>Obviously, she didn't say anything.<em>  
><em>"I see that you do know that." he said with another sigh. "Fine."<em>  
><em>She smiled.<em>

_Ten minutes later, a bus arrived. Everybody except the man she was following, the agent that was following her, and two other people got on the bus. The bus drove away and Natasha stayed where she was, pretending to be browsing her phone. She quickly examined the other people near her, taking in their appearance. One male, one female, both looking fit. The woman was tall and was wearing heavy boots that had many scuffs on them. She was tapping her foot methodically, and it radiated impatience. The man was rubbing his fingers in what __would've __of been a casual__way, but his hands had a gleam of sweat on them. They were both avoiding her gaze. The woman had a coat on over her vest, and when she shifted her position Natasha caught a glimpse of a round scar. A jolt of surprise flickered through her stomach but she kept her face uninterested. Bullet wound. The woman glanced at her, seeming uninterested. She coughed. The man had a bulge in his jacket that she had assumed was a phone, but now that she was aware of these people, she thought it was a gun. She exhaled, and looked at the agent who was following her. She knew from the look of indifference on his face that he had no idea. _  
><em>"Natasha?" said The Archer again. He did like saying her name. "What's wrong?"<em>

_The man stood up casually as if he was just stretching his legs. Natasha watched him carefully, her eyes narrowed, and she let her facade drop away. They knew. She didn't need to pretend. The man's eyes met hers._

_Just as she was expecting, the man raised his gun in practiced familiarity. Instead of it resting on her, it pointed towards the agent and that made Natasha hesitate for half a second in confusion. She instinctively threw herself forwards after her moment of stupid doubt, her hands closing around the man's wrist and pulling down as the shot rang out. The sound echoed and her ears rang. She didn't look at the agent but she hoped she had managed to affect the man's aim. She twisted the man's arm and he struggled, but in a swift moment he was bent forward and defenseless. The woman came up behind her so she wrenched the man's arm and it snapped and sent a sickening vibration up her arm. She felt it in her fingertips. He thrashed and she let him go. He fell to the ground, moaning. The woman came at her and she ducked under the punch that was aimed at her. She hit the woman across the jaw and she stumbled and brought her hand up to it out of habit. Natasha used that oppurtunity to kick her in the stomach with her trainer, and the woman fell on the floor, wheezing. She kicked the woman's head and there was a sikening thud and then silence._

_She went over to the agent and the the blood. There was a growing pool on the floor around him, and it contrasted brilliantly with the dull grey floor. There was a touch of blood on his ignored the man on the bench out of stubborness and knelt on the ground. The agent was gurgling and when he saw her he whimpered a little.  
>"Oh shut up." she snapped and his eyes fixed on her.<em>

_The blood from the agent's wound soaked into her jeans. The wound was on his shoulder and she didn't think it was fatal, but blood loss would affect his chances. She pulled off her hoodie, revealing the white vest beneath, and wrapped it around the agent's body as tightly as she could. The agentmoaned._  
><em>"Stay still." she commanded, pushing him down gently. She wiped her hands on her vest and they left vibrant red streaks. <em>  
><em>"Natasha." said The Archer, with a hint of urgency in his voice. "Just go. Get out of there. Don't do anything. A team will be there in minutes. Just wait." <em>  
><em>She rolled her eyes and stood by the man who she was following. He was calm and his face was expressionless.<em>

_"You seem to have made a bit of a mess." he said. His voice was soft and even. He sounded amused._  
><em>"I think you caused most of the mess." she replied.<em>  
><em>"I think I did too." he said. He sounded distant, like his mind was elsewhere. She didn't say anything. She just waited for him to continue. She didn't know what to think of him to be honest. There was nothing in his voice; it lacked emotions. There was no guilt, sorrow, or even anger, and that confused Natasha. It was just blank, like he had no care. It wasn't even as if he was bored, his voice was just empty and hollow. The archer was still wittering on in her ear but she blocked him out.<em>

_The man stood swiftly, and walked over to the edge of the road. He stood in the road, his eyes not moving from the black __tarmac__, and Natasha followed slowly, slightly hesitant. She __heard the __sound of an engine coming their way, and for a second she hoped it was S.H.I.E.L.D. She didn't really know what to do. _

_A car appeared as a dot in the distance. As it got closer, she saw that it was black, sleek, and shiny. It looked almost new. She didn't know what car it was, but it was fast approaching. It was a van, she realised. She didn't think it was S.H.I.E.L.D's, Natasha was sure that they wouldn't have a vehicle that looked so weak._  
><em>"Tasha..." cautioned Clint. <em>  
><em>"No." she said, annoyance in her voice.<em>  
><em>"What?"<em>  
><em>"No."<em>  
><em>"Not your thing?" he asked.<em>  
><em>"No."<em>

_"Pardon?" said the man, turning to her as the car pulled up beside him. _  
><em>"Nothing. Earpiece." said Natasha, indicating her ear.<em>  
><em>"Natasha!" scolded Clint.<em>  
><em>"Oh please." she said, rolling her eyes. "He's smart enough to realise that I'm not talking to myself."<em>  
><em>"Hm." grunted Clint.<em>

_The man watched as people dressed in grey and white combat uniform poured out of the van and stood around him. They were a mixture of men and women and they weren't too young or too old. They had guns at their belt, and others had small knives, rope, and some handcuffs. The man turned to her and gave her a sticky smile. "Miss Romanoff, I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."__  
><em>_"Stall" ordered the Archer, his voice slightly muffled, "We'll be there in three minutes."__  
><em>_Natasha blanked and stayed quiet, her eyes scanning the people. They had their hands by their guns and most had the __occasional __scar which hinted to her that they were well trained. They all wore a similar uniform; black jacket, grey and white cargo pants, and heavy black combat boots covered in scuffs. She __suddenly __felt how soft of weak her clothes were and how flimsy and thin her trainers were. Pathetic. She realised that if she tried to fight she had a very small chance of winning.__  
><em>_"How do you know who I am?" she questioned, hoping to get him talking.__  
><em>_"None of that Miss Romanoff, please." he said. He inclined his head to the van and several of the people around him shifted their position.__  
><em>_"Hm." she muttered with a soft smile. "Come on..." she drawled. "Tell me. How much do you know exactly?". She began to pace around them all in a circle, her eyes scanning their tight faces. Her arms were behind her back. The people around the man raised their guns and tracked her movements, but she knew that they wouldn't fie unless their lives were endangered. "Let's see." she murmured, still smiling. "Do you know about me? My past? What I've done..?" she slowed slightly, "Or what..." she stopped and looked directly into the man's wavering eyes. "I'm going to do?"__  
><em>_"We do not need to know these things." said the man finally after a small pause. A small flicker of triumph crossed Natasha's face. She had him.__  
><em>_"You must be curious. You've heard about my...reputation. I am very good at tricking people...at making them believe what I want. What makes you think I didn't do this with S.H.I.E.L.D?" she allowed herself to smirk. "I'm a spy for Christ's sake. The whole point of me is to infiltrate things like S.H.I.E.L.D."__  
><em>_"But you were captured!" shouted a man from the crowd. Oh it was easy. It was so, so easy.__  
><em>_"Quiet!" hissed the man she had been following.__  
><em>_"Was I now?" she said, pausing where she stood. "Do you really think that I would be with S.H.I.E.L.D now if I didn't want to? I may not know it's deepest secrets but I certainly know how it works."__  
><em>_No one said a word after that and nobody knew what to believe. They were distracted. She heard a chopper.___

_Natasha moved and __lashed __out, her fingers swiftly closing around the gun of the nearest person and twisting it ruthlessly out of his grip. He exclaimed in surprise. She dived behind his and pulled his body up like a shield and that made the others hesitate. She used those precious few seconds to shoot four of them._

___She calculated where their __unarmoured __parts were and put a swift bullet in them. Simple. One got one in the elbow and went down screaming. Two got a bullet in the head, and she doubted that they even had time to register their own demise. The last one got a bullet in the neck and even she thought it was nasty. It sent violent splatters of blood (and possibly meat) onto the people around him and the yelled and stumbled away from him. His hand went to his neck to try and stem the flow but there was no chance for him. He gurgle for a while before he died._

_She moved again, pulling a long knife from her shields belt and slicing his back with it. He was on the floor in seconds and she kicked him in the head to be shot at them with both hands as she moved back and forth __to __avoid their frankly lousy shots. They really weren't very accurate. Five more went down dead and three others had certainly fatal injuries. A man grabbed her from the back and dragged her backwards, trying desperately to prise her weapons from her hands. She bit down on his hand and he growled. She slammed her head back into his nose several times before he released her, and then she thrust her knife into his thigh, maybe hitting an artery. He went down screaming as blood spurted from __between __his fingers.___

_There were two of them left now and and they seemed reluctant to fight her. They were both men and seemed fairly skinny compared to the other guys, and their hands which held their guns trembled. They shot at her a few times and they missed so badly that it made her raise her eyebrows in disbelief. Their guns clicked as they ran out of bullets and they visually gulped. She had to __suppress __a laugh as she shot them in a painful but nonlethal place.___

_Natasha put the safety on her gun and tucked it in to the waistband of her jeans. Her __hands __were soaked in blood and she wiped them on her vest once more. There was a diagonal slash of a hole from her shoulder to her belly button, and a thin __shallow __cut was __beneath __it. One of the morons must have nicked her. She sighed. They got lucky._

_The helicopter was now overhead and the S.H.I.E.L.D logo was on the side of it. For a secret organisation, S.H.I.E.L.D really did love to put the logo on everything. She could her the whur of the blades. She raised a hand to wave almost sarcastically to the helicopter and-_

_The first thing she was aware of was the sound. It was like a whip crack, unbelievably loud and then suddenly and scarily quiet. It seemed like it was the loudest thing she had heard in her life but yet and the same time it was muffled as if someone had put cotton wool in her ears. Everything was silent and still, it had to be, but then how could she still hear the noise of the chopper?_

_There was a dreadful tightness in her chest that felt like a rubber band was around her. She had no lungs and she could not breathe. Why was there no air? She could feel in surging around her and hitting her skin, but none could seem to find it's way into her lungs. Her lips were bone dry and tasted metallic._

_Everything was blurry as if she was underwater and it made no sense. Shapes and patterns and colours danced before her eyes, and when she tried to focus on them they disappeared like smoke._

_Her hands went to her stomach but she could not remember wanting them to. They scraped weakly at her vest and it was soaking. The liquid was warm and it dripped over her fingers-___

_She could not breathe. Oh god she could not breathe. She needed air. Why wasn't she dead? She was suffocating. Her eyes began to water-___

_She __collapsed __into somebodies arms and then the pain hit her like a truck.___

_Agony. Burned like fire in her stomach. A terrible pain burning up her senses. Scorched her insides and turned them to ash. A thousand knives scoured groves into her flesh. They were shoved into her skin. She was being skinned alive surely. Nothing could compare to this. Her organs felt like they were being turned inside out.___

_Inside her mind, she screamed and thrashed and clawed against the pain, but in reality her body was terrifyingly still. Her hands were still at her stomach, scraping uselessly._

_She suddenly discovered that there was now too much air; far, far too much. Her lungs sucked it in over and over and she suffocated in oxygen. She was so cold. Her body shook __wildly __and her spine curved and a strangled gasp came from her throat. Her toes were glacial, as if they were chiselled from ice. Her stomach burned like an __inferno__._

_Letitend. Let it end. Let it end. Let it end. Let it end. Let it end. Let it end._

_The person holding her turned her over and her vision swam. She wanted to scream but she had no vocal cords. She pried her eyes open and they fixed on a face. The man that she had been following was looming over her, a sick and twisted smile on his face. He held a gun is his hand but he tossed it away. He said __something __but she could not hear it over the __deafening __silence ringing in her ears.__  
><em>_She reached up for his face but her grabbed her hand and pushed it back down. She only caught fragments of what he was saying.___

_"This isn't pain..." he was saying. She wanted to weep. She wanted to kill him. "Look wha...you did..." she sad as he looked around almost sadly. The wind sent his hair flapping __across __his forehead. There was some blood on his cheeks. She wanted to say something, anything.__  
><em>_"We could of...together..." he continued, gazing at her with a wicked fondness.__  
><em>_His hand moved slowly and came to rest on her belly, where the pain was the most intense. It was an almost tender action and she wanted to believe that her was going to help her. Maybe she did believe it for a second.___

_Then he __viciously __dug his finger into his wound.___

_It was then when she found her voice. She thrashed __beneath __him, trying to scramble away but he held her down with a grin. She screamed and screamed and he closed his eyes in relish as he rotated his finger around and around inside her wound. He twisted and her screams changes pitch and choked off as her agony went beyond noise. She fell onto her back and pleaded for a blackout. Just let it end.__  
><em> 

_Just as her vision was dimming, a heavy force dragged him off her. A figure pulled him onto the floor and clambered on him. The figure began to rain down heavy punches and the air was filled with the sound of flesh hitting flesh/ The man cackled and spat of a mouthful of blood. The figure rose and pulled out a bow from his back. An arrow was nocked and ready to fly, but a man in a a long coat and wearing an eyepatch placed a cautionary hand on his shoulder.__  
><em>_"Don't!" shouted the one who looked like a pirate over the helicopter.__  
><em>_The figure reluctantly put his bow away; his face contorted in rage.___

_The Archer turned and skidded to her side and fumbled while he searched for her pulse. __  
><em>_"She's faint." he said. His voice shook.__  
><em>_He began to press on her wound __and __Natasha was filled __with __a strange sort of pain. It hurt, but it was like her body knew that it was the best thing to do. She made a strange noise in the back of her throat as she tried to speak. The Archer looked at her and his face softened. All of the anger he had felt seemed to be gone. He kept both hands on her stomach but her eyes never left her face._

_"Stay with me, Natasha."___

_Maybe she was delirious. Maybe she was in shock. But impossibly, her hands moved of their own accord and came to rest gently on his face. His eyes widened in shock and his mouth tightened, but she didn't care.__  
><em>_Her arms became weak and they dropped down to her sides, and she just had time to catch a __glimpse of __the crimson she left on his cheeks before she blacked out._

Shock. And fear. Natasha stumbled forwards and grabbed the shower curtain for support, but her weight was too much and it was ripped. She fell onto the side of the bath and tumbled over it, hitting her head as she lay in a heap.

_Oh god, _she thought. What was that?

She didn't get flashbacks. Not ever. She wasn't affected by that sort of thing. She was the Black Widow. An assassin and spy. She didn't freak out.

She stood up and noticed that her limbs were shaking. She pulled on a dressing gown and wrapped it tightly around couldn't shake the feeling of terror. She splashed freezing cold water on the back of her neck and wrists, and it sent pleasant chills down her spine. The mirror was steamed up and she drew a hand across it to wipe it.

Her face was covered with blood.

She suppressed and a cry and fell to the floor. Her head spinning. She put her hands to her head and they tangled in her wet hair. Garbled images of the past flickered like photographs in her vision and she wanted to scream.

This wasn't right. This didn't happen. It wasn't right.

Her head pounded and the room around her spun.

"Nooooo..." she moaned quietly. "This isn't real. It can't be happening."  
>A banging came from the bathroom door.<br>"Natasha?" called Clint, "Are you okay?"  
>A moan escaped her lips. The door began to tremble as Clint began to get more and more worried. The handle shook. She wanted to get up and open it, but she couldn't find the strength.<br>"Natasha!" yelled Clint. "Open the door, dammit!"  
>There was a thud as he got no reply. It got louder and louder and more insistent.<br>"Nat!" he growled.

Her head stayed in her hands.

There was a bang as the door was kicked open and Clint strode in.  
>"Nat?!" he exclaimed as he saw her there. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"<br>_No,_ she wanted to say. _I'm great. Just going insane._  
>She could make her voice work.<p>

His arms wrapped around her and pulled her up into her arms. Her feet left the ground and her eyes closed. She began to sway as he walked.  
><em>What the hell is happening to me?<em> she wondered frantically.  
>The dizziness of the moment took over her senses and she knew no more.<p>

**There was no smut in this chapter, and if you are bothered by that then I apologize. I just wanted a chapter where I could explore their past a little more...if you didn't like it, that's fine, but if you did, do you want to see some more? If you have any****specific ****ideas then let me know. :) Also if you spot any mistakes then please tell me and I'll fix them. Thanks for reading, as always it means a lot! 3**


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